Victim
by amieofabc
Summary: Yes sirs and madames, iiiiiiiiit's HERNST! When Ilse brings Hanschen a battered Ernst, Hanschen is forced to confront his fear of letting go.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Spring Awakening or any of the characters. Hanschen VOLUNTEERED to stay in my closet for the last six weeks! *shuts door discreetly* ENJOY!**

Hanschen paced his room in a maddening loop. Ernst should've been with him fifteen minutes ago, and Ernst wasn't one to be late. Something had to be wrong, and he hated how much he cared. He told himself he was merely annoyed at having to wait for the admiration in that thin, doe-eyed face. Such a pitiful lie though, really.

Five minutes passed, then ten, than another fifteen, and still no sign of Herr Robel. Damn it, what was he playing at?

Then a knock came at the door, rapid and uneven, one could almost call it flustered. Hanschen leapt out of his room, much too quickly, told himself to slow down, and turned the handle. The sight that met his eyes very nearly dissolved the mask of arrogance and nonchalance he wore so well.

Ilse stood on the doorstep, cheeks stained with tears and struggling with the weight of the barely conscious boy slung over her shoulders. "Hansi…" her voice shook, "I found him in the woods, I-I didn't know where else to go, I knew you'd take him."

Hanschen gasped as he recognized Ernst's face and quickly helped Ilse inside. There was definite concern etched into his expression now as he noticed the criss-crossing lines of red that decorated Ernst's back and shoulders. "What happened to him?" he asked quietly, preparing water to sterilize bandages.

Ilse took a deep, shuddering breath. "I patched him up as best I could, but I didn't have much material to work wi-"

"I asked you what happened to him, now answer me!"

"I don't know Hanschen! How would I know why he was in the middle of the woods bleeding out?"

"You must have some idea, he must have said something!"

She shook her head slowly. "All he told me was that he needed to see you before he left."

"Before he left where?"

She fixed a heated glare on Hanschen. "I. Don't. Know. I was hoping you would."

They didn't speak after that, just set to work patching up Ernst. He was worse, far worse, than Hanschen could've guessed. The wounds on his shoulders were deep, his skin pale and eyes sunken with exhaustion, raven hair matted terribly with dirt and blood. Ilse had managed to stop a good portion of the blood loss, but as soon as they had been cleaned and freed of bandages, they bled again until the new ones were tied on. Once, while Hanschen was meticulously combing the dirt from his hair, Ernst stirred and reached a bony hand to Hanschen's face. Hanschen simply caught it, kissed it, and set it back on the mattress, glancing at Ilse. Her mouth twitched in what looked suspiciously like a smirk, but she said nothing.

"I think that's all there is to be done." Hanschen broke the silence tentatively, not trusting his own voice.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"No, I can handle him." he muttered, some of the drawling quality returned to his countenance. "You should get back to…well, where do you live these days?"

"The artist's colony on the edge of nowhere." she said simply, whirling to the door, "I'll be back before long to see him Hansi, take good care of him, won't you?"

"Of course."

"Promise me." he had never heard her voice so commanding.

"Yes, I promise. He'll be back on his feet in no time."

"And what'll you tell your parents?"

"They're in Berlin for the time being, and if he's not better before they get back I'm sure I can think of something."

She gave him a funny tilt of her head, then vanished onto the street.

**So WHAT happened to Ernst? WHAT trials lie ahead? And WHY is my characterization of Hanschen so terrible? REVIEW AND ALL SHALL BE REVEALED!**


	2. Chapter 2

**So guess what? I still don't own Spring Awakening. WAAAAAAAAAH! Also, sorry if I go overboard on the stuttering here, but he's SCARED s***less, so he's bound to stutter more, right? **

"_Can't help the itch to touch, to kiss, to hold him once again…"_

Hanschen Rilow wasn't given to worrying. Didn't fret over grades, or fuss about friends. But now, three days after Ernst had been brought over, he began to. He had only stirred for a few minutes at a time to mumble indistinctly before drifting back to sub-consciousness. If this kept up Hanschen would have to move him, his parents would only be gone four more days. He padded over to the bed where Ernst lay and knelt, as if about to pray, then couldn't help but laugh at a distant memory- "_Have you prayed tonight, Desdemona?"_- but that was before everything became complicated. He smoothed a strand of Ernst's hair away from his face and gently kissed his forehead. He rarely showed this kind of tenderness to Ernst when he was awake, why was that?

_Because I'm a bloody tease._ he thought with a smirk. He didn't like being taken for granted, and those three words Ernst craved so much would land him in that dreaded position of belonging to someone, like a toy. However, he couldn't help but think that if Ernst would just open his eyes, just speak his name once more, they would come rushing out.

_No time like the present Hansi._ muttered the voice that dominated his softer side-yes, he had one- Ilse's voice, actually, she had always tried to be his moral compass when she could. Hanschen leaned forward.

"Ernst." The name came out a clipped whisper. He tried again, carefully adjusting his voice to that velvet coated, honey sweet tone of persuasion. "Ernst, darling, please wake up." the boy on the bed murmured something indistinct. Hanschen grasped his hand, intertwining their fingers. "It's really not fair to keep me waiting like this you know. Not when I…" he choked for a moment and felt Ernst's fingers twitch, "Not when I…love…you." What a coward he was. The boy couldn't even hear him and he feared his own words.

Then suddenly long black lashes fluttered open to reveal rich, brown doe eyes.

"Hanschen?" his voice was weak and cracked with disuse, but Ernst was unmistakably awake.

"Good morning dear, I thought you'd never come around." His voice was perfectly back to normal.

Ernst twisted around in confusion. "H-how long have I b-been here?"

_So he hadn't heard. _"A few days. Ilse found you and brought you here."

"Bless her soul." he muttered, attempting to sit up.

"Ernst…what happened to you? I don't want to pry, but you _did_ show up a bloody, unconscious mess. I was a bit worried."

Ernst's eyes clouded over with a terrible mixture of shame, grief and fury. "They found out. About us." Hanschen's head jerked up, eyes wide. "N-not both of us." he added hurriedly, "Just m-me. I don't know who told them or h-how they knew, but I went home and m-my father just came at me- I've n-never seen him like th-that Hanschen, I was so frightened! He took me to the yard and beat me with his f-fists and then a whip, t-trying to get me to tell who I was w-with, he didn't know who to suspect, and m-my mother had to pull him off me…" he dissolved into tears, burying his face in his hands.

Hanschen, who had been listening in silent horror, joined Ernst on the mattress and held him, tracing the tears away and pressing his own lips softly to his. "You're safe here, Ernst." he whispered. "I love you."

Ernst's thin form pulled away briefly. "You…what?"

Hanschen cocked an eyebrow. "Did I stutter?"

"N-no, I guess you didn't, but Hansi-"

He was cut off by Hanschen's lips, more urgent this time.

"Trust me on this one, Ernst. I'm sure of it."

"I know, Hanschen, I heard you the first time."

**Whew! Got a bit fluffy there at the end, but trust me I know how this is going to play out. Ilse might return next chapter, I'm not sure yet.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Howdy y'all! (Guess who just saw Country Strong!) The bit in Italics is a flashback/dream sequence in case you happen to be a newb who is unaware of such things. Enjoy! Oh, and I don't own S.A. If I did, I wouldn't be writing Fanfiction on it, now would I?**

_I didn't waste time sorting out my school papers. It had been perhaps the longest day of my life and I needed to see Hanschen __right__this__instant.__ I was just heading out when my father entered with a slam of the door. "ERNST!" he bellowed, voice echoing terribly with anger. _

_I came forward at once; fearing what might happen if I didn't. "Yes father?"_

_He stalked forward menacingly. "I had an interesting conversation with one of my colleagues today. Can you imagine what we might have spoken of?"_

"_N-no Father."_

"_He claims he saw you engaging in intimate, physical contact with a classmate." his voice rose threateningly, "A __**male**__ classmate." His face twitched in irritation and my heart pounded. "I told him that this surely could not be so, that MY son was a good Christian boy who had read the Bible, a King James' edition no less, and was aware of the good Lord's word on the matter of homosexual relationships. Now tell me boy," he bent over to make complete eye contact with me, "was I correct in saying so?"_

_I lowered my eyes, shaking in terror. There wasn't an escape route, my father would know immediately if I lied. As Melchior would put it, I was totally fucked. Nothing left to do now but own up. "No father," I squeaked, "you weren't. I have been…involved with a m-male classmate of mine."_

_My father's hand collided with my cheek, immediately forming a bruise. "Who was it, boy? Tell me who!"_

_I gave no answer, merely shivered in terror as his father half-dragged me by my wrists to the outside yard and stripped me of my shirt, forcing me against the shed, and snatched an old whip off its rusty hook. "I'm giving you one last chance, boy." he hissed, "Give me a name and we can correct this…momentary loss of judgment."_

_Images flashed through my mind of intense blue eyes and pale hands and I knew that even if I wanted to betray Hanschen, the necessary words would catch in my throat. I gritted my teeth and prepared for the blow, filling every thought with his effortless perfection._

_I didn't have to wait long. The whip cracked as it flashed across my back, drawing blood with sickening intensity._

"_Was it Melchior Gabor? Moritz Stiefel? Otto? Bobby? Georg?" The whip struck anew with each name, trying to carve the truth out of me. And then- "Was it Hanschen Rilow?" I tried not to show any emotion for you Hansi, I truly did, but there was no stopping the whimper that escaped my lips. "WELL, WAS IT?" he leapt on my weakness._

"_No Father! I swear, it wasn't, Father PLEASE!" I cried as he redoubled his efforts._

"_You're making me do this, child! You bring misfortune upon yourself when you stray from the path of God!"_

_Pain, red, red pain, is all I remember after that._

"HANSCHEN!" Ernst bolted awake with a scream.

Hanschen pulled his lover's thin, shaking frame into his chest, refusing to let him go until the sobs subsided. "You're safe here Ernst, darling, it's over now. Never forget that I love you." he whispered into the raven curls.

The room was blanketed in silence until Ernst felt he could trust his vocal cords again. "We…we can't stay here, can we? Not now that they know, I mean…they must be looking for me, I think they're just waiting for your parents to return so they can raid the place."

Hanschen sighed wearily. "You're right, I suppose. It's only a matter of time before they come for you, and I don't want to be here when they do. So where do we go, darling? Berlin? Munich? Dusseldorf?"

"I don't think both of us can go."

"Why ever not?" concern crept into Hanschen's voice.

"They don't know about you, Hanschen. If you vanish they'll put two and two together and end up with four, they aren't _total_ idiots. You won't ever be able to come back. You still have a chance at a normal life now, you'll find a way to deny everything, get married, have a family, forget me. And then-"

Hanschen's lips cut him off, the kiss feeling almost angry.

"Ernst Robel, don't you dare ever tell me to forget you. You ought to know how utterly impossible that is." He smirked a little as the dark-haired boy in his arms quivered under his touch. "We'll figure this out in the morning, trust me, but for now…" he kissed him again, gently biting Ernst's lower lip in the careful way he knew drove him crazy. "I think for now we should make the most of an empty house."

**Holy. Crap. That was a LOOOOONG chapter! Thanks for hanging in there, I hope you enjoyed it!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Whoa. That can't be right. 200 HITS TO THIS STORY? Haha, you guys are awesome, thanks for helping me reach this milestone! I is a happy kiddo right now. I FINALLY managed to see Spring Awakening on stage last week, and I must say it was AMAZING…right up until the infamous Vineyard Scene. You all know how much I love Hansi and Ernstie, but the cast I saw didn't do well with them. Ernst was much too bold, and Hanschen had a way of speaking that sort of ruined the image of a confident, smooth-talking narcissist. But life (and this story) goes on, enjoy the chapter!**

Hanschen woke up before Ernst the next day to the sound of flustered knocking at the door. He quickly and silently leapt into his trousers and shirt before opening the door for Ilse. She didn't bother with a greeting, simply got down to the point. "Has he woken up yet?"

"Yes, but keep your voice down, he's asleep now."

"Oh." she glanced around, "I can't stay long, I really just thought I'd check up on him, and go."

"Well, you're here, you may as well sit for a moment." he opened the door further.

She hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded and stepped in.

He led her into the kitchen to avoid waking Ernst and sat across from her at the table. Again she skipped the pleasantries and drove to the head of her question. "So how long have you two been together?"

"How did…who told you?" if the news had already spread out of the village, they were truly damned.

She laughed softly. "No one had to tell me anything, Hansi. Ernst seemed more flustered than usual at Moritz's…you know…" she swallowed hard before continuing, "And I knew he had to be seeing someone-"

"How would you know that?"

"Because he was so unbelievably _happy_. Bumbling, shy, and flustered, but happy nonetheless. Think about it! What reason would someone who's about to flunk out of school, who has the most disgustingly neglectful parents I've ever known beyond mine, who has trouble making friends because he's so damn _shy_ have to be happy?" She smacked her palm on the wood surface of the table. "Love!"

"How'd you trace that to me, then? I know for a fact nobody saw us the night we…connected. Who's to say he wasn't in love with Anna or Thea?"

"That's the part I had trouble with." she confessed, "But he didn't seem particularly attached to any one of us when we played by the river, and eventually I decided it had to be a boy. As for _which_ boy…" she grinned smugly, "To be honest I would've guessed it was Melchior, all the girls seemed to like him, and Ernst has always been like one of the girls, but it was always _you_ he was staring at, always _you_ he tried not to talk about. And then when I found him the forest he wouldn't stop saying your name, and I just knew."

There was silence for awhile, Hanschen had actually been stricken silent. He knew Ernst had been sincere in the vineyard, but it blew his mind to be reminded how deeply emotion could run.

"What are you two going to do?" Ilse whispered, suddenly concerned, "The village knows, they're all taking sides, it's a wonder they haven't barged in here, but they think you're in Berlin as well." the words tumbled out in a rush from her mouth.

Hanschen took several deep breaths before he said anything. "Ernst thinks it would be best if one of us stayed, came up with some excuse, and one of us disappeared. I said no initially, but now I'm wondering if that's the only way out of this." his voice shook dangerously and the piercing blue eyes were stung with tears for the first time in months.

"Oh, Hanschen," Ilse extended a hand.

"Don't." he muttered roughly, pushing it away. "I just…we're shit out of luck here. Even if I emptied my parent's savings, it wouldn't be enough to get us as far as we need to get, not both of us. Either we live apart or get burned at the sta-" he halted abruptly as the door opened to reveal Ernst, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Morning Hanschen." he mumbled, leaning in to kiss him, then pausing as he noticed Ilse.

"Hello Ernst." she waved awkwardly. "Glad to see you're feeling better."

"Yes, I've conscious for three days now." he pulled up a chair between them to talk. "Hanschen and I were discussing our options last night though, and er… we've hit a rough patch."

"Yes, he told me." her face was troubled. "I think…I should be leaving now, actually."

Ernst started in his seat. "But you've just gotten here!"

"I know, and I really do wish I could stay! But I was just supposed to pop in for a moment and check on you, then leave. I…I'm meeting someone." she blushed, pushing away from the table and trying to leave before they could ask about it.

"I smell a romance!" Hanschen called as she fled out the door.

"You're awful." muttered Ernst.

"Only when I want to be, dear." he pressed his lips to Ernst's. "You didn't seem to mind last night." Last night. The options. Shit out of luck. He pulled away suddenly from the kiss, face expressionless.

"We still haven't got a plan, do we?" Ernst asked quietly, eyes cast down to avoid Hanschen's.

Ten minutes later, Hanschen still hadn't said anything, hadn't even moved. Realizing it was a lost cause, Ernst stood and retreated to the bedroom to draw. Hanschen entered nearly an hour later, eyes gone from expressionless to dead cold.

"I'm leaving." he announced in a flat monotone, ignoring Ernst's protests and stuffing random articles of clothing into a satchel. "Don't try and stop me, I spent the last hour thinking about it, I'm not about to be swayed. You'll stay here, tell them all you found God in the woods, realized the error of your ways."

"And am I going to see you again?" Ernst asked incredulously.

"To put it bluntly, no." he swallowed, "We started a war in this town, even the tiniest sign I've returned will only fan the flames. We're through after tonight. This isn't how I want it, but-"

"No." Ernst's voice didn't shake, or freeze up. There was strength in that one word, more than Hanschen had heard before. "I spent _months_ watching you, listening to you, hoping that one day, even if only for a second, you would _see_ me, you know? Look past the stumbling, foolish, general oddity that I am and love me, even just a little. And then that night in the vineyard, Hansi, I promised myself I wasn't going to let something as great as you pass me by."

"I don't think you understand the severity of this situation!" Hanschen snapped, "We are at a point where we can't win. The bloody _system_ doesn't work for me or for us anymore, it works against us, and the option we have now is to split or die!"

"I'll die either way!" Ernst fired back.

"Not because of me, you won't."

Ernst took firm hold of his arms, forcing eye contact. "We need to _try_. Just give it a chance. If anything goes wrong, I'll take the blame, say I talked you into it, whatever it takes! Just _please_, don't make me leave you."

Hanschen knew he'd been had now. There was nothing logical in Ernst's plan, nothing safe, nothing certain, and a million things that could go wrong, but there would be no denying the look in those round, dark, doe eyes. "Alright. We've got one night to come up with everything we need and get going." he kissed Ernst lightly on the lips. "I think we'll be alright darling."

**Okay, don't be mad, I know not a lot really happened in this chapter, and I'm sorry for that, school's been completely insane lately. I have two options for how this story can end, and neither of them are happy, but once I choose I'd guess there'll be two or three more chapters, and maybe an epilogue. Hope you've enjoyed it so far!**


	5. Chapter 5

**So after the most epically horrible case of writer's block known to mankind, I'M BAAAAACK! I didn't cover everything I really wanted to in this chapter, but when I tried it looked like crap, so I cut a few bits to be moved to the next few chapters. I'm so sorry about the wait, I hope you'll forgive me! **

**Still don't own Spring Awakening, nor can I bargain with Frank Wedekind for the rights. *sigh***

"Is that all of it?"

"Yes Hanschen, that's everything." Ernst said breathlessly, doing up the clasps on his suitcase. "Should we leave a note?"

"A note?" Hanschen's voice rose an incredulous octave. "Yes, I'm sure we can gloss this whole ordeal over with a _note_." he regretted the harshness of his tone immediately. "I'm sorry Ernst. You've done nothing to deserve this."

"It's fine, but I thought I should leave them with something, I know my mother will worry no matter what I've done." he shrugged, trying to seem unconcerned.

Hanschen sighed wearily at Ernst's sentimentality. "Look, if you really think it's a good idea, go ahead and leave a note. Just please be brief on the technicalities, alright?"

Ernst nodded gratefully and began scribbling onto a slip of paper, the scratching of the pen on paper becoming the only audible sound. It was an awfully **long **note, Hanschen noticed after the clock in the hall struck a quarter-past midnight, but he decided against saying anything. Finally, the scribbling ceased and the folded page was placed on an end table for Herr and Fraulein Robel to discover. "I'm ready now." Ernst whispered. They rose, shuffled around a little as they arranged bags over their shoulders, and, with one last glance around the house, turned to leave.

Hanschen opened the door to find himself staring straight into a pair of sharp, gray eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Gabor?" Hanschen stepped back in surprise.

"Relax." Melchior whispered, pushing past him. "I'm on your side, what they're doing out there," he jerked a thumb at the door behind him, "It's sick. I made the mistake-yet again-of speaking up and...well, that's actually why I'm here. Ilse told me-"

"You still talk to Ilse?" Ernst cut in.

"Indeed. She kept me sane between what...happened with Wendla and the endless shit at the Reformatory. Anyway, she told me you two were heading off tonight but you didn't know where to go."

The couple exchanged a glance. Reluctant as they were to add on a third member to their trip, they truly had no idea what they were doing, and Melchior was the last person who would have an ulterior motive for helping them. "Well..." Ernst began hesitantly, "We do that issue to solve, yes. Do you have anywhere particular in mind?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. I found it when I ran from the reformatory, we could reach it by morning if we hurry. They'll take care of you until you figure out something more...permanent."

"What's the catch?" Hanschen inquired, eyebrow cocked.

"Well, everyone has their role to play in the community, you'll be expected to perform certain services. Also, certain members may not be very accepting towards your situation."

They thought it over for a moment before Ernst answered. "I'll admit, that's a better offer than we really could've asked for, I think we'll take it." Melchior nodded and gestured at the door, leading the way out of the village to what seemed like freedom.

"-just not sure we should trust him." whispered Hanschen, walking just far enough behind Melchior to remain out of earshot. "How do we know he's not leading us to the reformatory?"

The raven-haired boy beside him simply shrugged. "We don't. But think about it, he's been in our position before. The people we're running from are the reason he lost his best friend, his child, _Wendla_. I seriously doubt he'd sell us out after that. Besides, he likes me."

"But what if he thinks the reformatory is the safest place for us?"

The question hung in the air for awhile. Ernst thought back to the first time Melchior had dared re-enter the village, how lost he'd looked, how _hollow_. Something about the place had changed him, taken the inquisitive spark out of his eyes. "No." he said finally, "He'd never think that."

The sun had risen over the horizon when Melchior finally stopped in front of a large, albeit ramshackle wood building. Without a word, he sauntered to the door and knocked twice. There was a scuffling of feet from inside before the door opened and a whirlwind of red hair, bare feet and squeals exploded onto him. "Ilse!" he cried, covering her face with...Kisses? Was _Melchior_ the one she'd been seeing?

"What the hell?" Hanschen exclaimed, though not angrily, in fact he was almost laughing.

"Oh..." Ilse's cheeks went scarlet in the new light as she disentangled herself from Melchior. "I...I'll explain. Come in!"

**Yes, that's right. I ship Melchi/Ilse! I honestly think that without Moritz and Wendla they'd turn to eachother, so there you have it! I might write a companion story to this that focuses on that pairing, I'm not sure yet. Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

Ilse didn't let go of Melchior's hand as she led them inside the building and around a table in the corner. The room wasn't what they'd call clean, but it was definitely homey. There were at least twenty other people crowded in with them, chatting and scribbling onto slips of paper as they sipped their morning coffee. Ernst felt a few twinges of jealousy at the lust-filled glances Hanschen was receiving from ten or so members of the household, but they vanished as the blonde boy's fingers wrapped around his own, leading him to a chair opposite Melchior.

"So..." Ilse glanced at Melchior before launching into their story full-on. He made a slight gesture for her to get it over with. "I made it a habit to put flowers on Moritz's grave whenever I could, and one night he was with Moritz as well. We had always gotten along so well, and I knew what had happened with Wendla because I always delivered their letters. We met up almost every week after that. At first it was just remembering Moritz, when we were in school, playing pirates, but then we got to talking about eachother and there were just...so many connections we'd never made, so many similarities in how we saw the world. Let's just say it didn't take long for the relationship to evolve."

"That simple, huh? How very nice for you." Hanschen muttered.

"Actually, yes." replied Melchior, a little more sharply than necessary. "This building is exactly halfway between Priapia and our home village, it became a perfect meeting place. There wasn't any need for us to become complicated, Hanschen, we were already both outcasts."

Ilse placed a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him down before his voice rose any further. He ignored it, brushing her aside. "Melchior, please-"

"Don't! I led them out of danger, I took risks for them! And the thanks I receive is a snide remark? They know nothing of how much danger their position has put us in-" he turned suddenly and lifted his shirt over his head to reveal the stretch of skin covering his back. It was marred by the all-too-familiar sight of criss-crossing scars reaching from shoulders to waist. "I spoke up. I entered the village knowing how unwelcome I was and I demanded that the elders at least give you a fair trial. They flogged me in the town square in front of everyone, Martha, Otto, Thea, Georg, Ana...They don't see me anymore. I'm just some criminal to them now, do you realize that? But I thought it would be worth it for you two!"

"He didn't mean anything by it." Ernst cut in wearily. "Trust me," he lifted his shirt as well, ignoring Melchior's gasp of surprise "we know what we must be putting you through and it means more than you can imagine. Hanschen only made the remark because of the irony he found in your story."

"Irony?"

"In the fact that while you and Ilse are together because you're outcasts, Hanschen and I are outcasts because we're together." he stated simply. "My father found out and, I think, intended to beat me to death. He would've indirectly succeeded if Ilse hadn't found me and brought me to Hanschen, so please believe me when I say we know what we're up against."

The words seemed to calm Melchior, who finally sat down and ran a hand through his hair. "We should get you two to a room. You've been traveling all night, you could do with some sleep."

Ilse's eyes filled with concern. "What about you?"

He shrugged. "I'm behind on kitchen duty. I'll be alright." he turned to the chattering throng behind him and called over a girl of maybe fifteen who, for reasons unknown, was carrying what looked like a version of the miniature-chalkboard slates they had once used in school. "Elise, could you be a dear and show Hanschen and Ernst to a room?"

The girl named Elise nodded and gestured at the two to follow her upstairs. They didn't speak, even as Ernst thanked her after she unlocked the door. "Not much for words, was she?"

Hanschen chuckled a little. "Ernst, I swear, you never cease to amaze me with your naivete."

"What do you mean?"

"That girl was a mute. She couldn't have spoken if she wanted to, though by the look of her she did _not_ wish to. What did you think the slate was for?"

Ernst blushed as they stepped inside. "I...I thought she might be taking lessons. How would you know?"

"This isn't the kind of place where they teach their children to do math problems with bits of chalk. Did you see the look in her eyes? She's been taught to distrust newcomers, my guess is the other residents aren't much different. We're all outcasts here, to the point where we know better than to give out information to people simply because they _might _know how we feel."

When the two had finally settled in enough to get some sleep, the sun was just barely beginning to fade into the hills. They breathed a sigh of relief as they crawled into bed, happy to be together without a thousand worries pressing on them. Hanschen had begun to drift off when suddenly Ernst pulled away from his arms. "Ernst?" he murmured groggily.

"Please don't be angry with me." he whispered, "But sometimes I can't help but to wonder if maybe my father's right. That loving you as much as I do is going to send us to Hell." his shoulders shook with the confession and was quickly rebound by Hanschen's arms.

"Dearest, if I may be blunt, I've always thought your father was a filthy bastard. This idea of his that a person will spend eternity in torment because of who they love merely proves my point. He has no idea what he's talking about, and probably never will." he kissed him, slowly, deeply. "Sometimes you have to close your ears and trust what your instincts tell you. What do you think I was doing that night in the vineyard?"

Ernst groaned. "_Please_, don't remind me of that. We've got another twenty-five years before it stops being embarrasing and starts being incredibly beautiful." he curled up under the blanket again and sighed. "I love you even more now, you know."

"I love you too, Ernst. Always did." Hanschen whispered with a yawn.

They settled uneasily into the rythm of the community. Laundry on Mondays. Kitchen duty on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Dusting and tidying on Thursdays. Studying/Trade on Fridays. Weekends were reserved for socialization and, if it was wanted, prayer. It was a far different lifestyle than they'd ever known, and it wasn't exactly easy getting used to the sideways glances they received day after day, but it was worth it to feel _safe _at night. The fact of the matter was that it worked.

Until the day they awoke to a world on fire.


	7. Chapter 7

Elise was an orphan. It took weeks of conversation on the slate to build up enough trust for her to reveal this, but because they had the same chore schedule, she came almost like a daughter to Hanschen and Ernst. She liked to draw on the slate, often sketching portraits of the people who passed through the house. Some said she was nearly as good as Ernst. Neither of the boys noticed when she gradually slunk into their hearts and became more than the little girl with brown braids and no voice until the night that changed their destinies.

The smell was the first thing to hit Hanschen. Thick, black smoke had wafted from an unknown location downstairs, the stench quickly filling the room. It took him only a moment to flash out of bed and shake Ernst awake while hurridley pulling on trousers. "Hansi, wha-what's going on?"

"Fire, get moving!" he barked, the smoke making his voice harsh. Ernst didn't have to be told twice, throwing the sheets to the ground and snatching his Bible from the bedstand. "Damn..." he heard Hanschen choke out as he singed his fingertips on the doorhandle, "We can't get out through the door, get to the window!" They struggled for a few, precious seconds with the glass before Hanschen lost patience and slammed his forearm against it twice, splintering the pane and creating a wide enough hole for them to crawl through.

They slid hand in hand off the roof in time to see Melchior lead a tearful Ilse out the front door. Flames jumped up the side of the building, and Ilse let out a heart-wrenching cry as the staircase collapsed, turning her head to sob into Melchior's chest. Ernst was the first one with clear enough lungs to ask the question on everyone's mind. "Is everybody alright?"

Melchior looked up with a somber expression in his eyes. "No. Most of us have burns, Hanschen, I can tell you're bleeding, and Elise-the mute girl-was still inside when the stairs collapsed." The words sunk in quickly, sending both boys' minds reeling. Elise-shy, little Elise who had just begun to trust them-was gone. Hanschen wrapped his uninjured arm around Ernst's shoulders, kissing his forehead and lying through his teeth about how everything was going to be fine. The moment enveloped them, carrying them away from the disaster until the only reality was Hanschen's solid embrace and Ernst's dark, tear-filled eyes. There was almost a peace to it-

Until Ilse let out another scream, this time a bloodcurdling, pulse-freezing shriek that shattered the night like a window. It was the only warning any of them had before rough hands sprung out of nowhere, covering their mouths and ignoring the kicks to the shins they recieved. Hanschen panicked, grasping blindly for any part of Ernst. Their fingers interlocked for a brief instant before they were ripped apart again and thrown roughly into a carriage.

"I found the fags!" a rough voice called above them.

"Nicely done Clark." the outline of a slender man entered the carriage with them. "I suppose you're not worthless after all." he forced Hanschen's face roughly upwards. "What's your name, pretty boy?" he was met with a mouthfull of ash and spit to the eye from the blonde boy. "Let's try this again," he muttered in a dangerously low voice before striking him across the face. "What's your name?" when he still received no answer, he made a slight motion to his comrade. A knife was at Ernst's throat before Hanschen could process what was happening. "I don't give a shit what happens to you two, pretty boy." the man hissed, "Now either you cooperate or I personally make sure your boyfriend is never heard from again."

There was a silence, broken by Ernst's whimpers before anyone spoke. "Hanschen Rilow." he muttered finally, injecting the words with as much venom as he could. "And I swear to god if you hurt him-" he was silenced with a blow that made the bones in his neck pop.

The Man smirked and turned to the seat next to him. "And how about you, Bambi?"

"Ernst Robel." he barely whispered, face now stained with tear tracks. The blade was finally lifted from his skin and he let out a shuddering breath. "Please...we've done nothing to you. There's no reason for this."

Hanschen didn't hear the sneering reply over the blood pounding in his ears. His fingers tensed against the rope that had been tied around his wrists as the carriage lurched into motion and his stomach clenched as he realized there wasn't a way out at this point. Ernst watched as his head dropped to his chest and began to whisper a prayer.

**Not my best writing, I know, but I hope you didn't hate it!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I give up. I have no f***ing idea when this story will end. BUT THAT'S ALRIGHT! I really enjoy writing it! I hope you enjoy reading it!**

"Herr Robel?"

The balding man turned away from the window at the voice of his comrade. "Is there news?" his voice remained the same as it had for nearly three months- flat, expressionless, and cold.

"They, er, f-found your son. You were c-correct about the Rilow b-boy-"

"Wheelan, you sound sound just like the wretched boy, stop your incessant stuttering. Where did they find him?"

"In a house f-full of runaways and d-delinquents. It was halfway between the artist's colony and the reformatory where they sent the G-gabor child, I'm told he was discovered there as well."

"Is that so? I suppose I should've expected that after-"

"You don't mean that, sir." Herr Wheelan said quietly from the corner.

Herr Robel whipped around to face him. "Excuse me?"

"This isn't some random v-village boy. He's your son. And yes, you're d-disappointed with him, but with all respect sir, I know deep down you still care about him, don't you?"

Ernst's father leaned close to Herr Wheelan, his voice changing to a vicious whisper. "That boy is no son of mine. I can't imagine where you're getting this idea that I would ever defend him after the atrocities he has committed, but believe me when I say he means nothing to me now. I meant to destroy him that day in the yard, and he's given me no reason to think twice about finishing the job." he paused a moment, seeming to hear something in the night outside. "It seems the carriages have returned. Now please, Franz, bring the filth in."

-pagebreak-pagebreak-

Ernst realized where they were heading before Hanschen did. Even now, in the velvet darkness, he recognized the turns that led to what had once been his home. "Hanschen-" he whispered, "-they're taking us to _him._" The blonde boy felt his breath catch. If Herr Robel was as angry now as he had been four months ago, they may not make it out alive. The carriage jolted to a stop and nausea set in. He tasted blood where their captor had hit him and nearly lost conciousness. Ernst's voice asking him what they were going to do pulled him back into thinking straight.

"Deny everything?"

"We can't get away with that. They found us together, remember?"

"Damn..." he let his head fall onto his knees. "Look, we can figure something out, I know it."

"But what-" he was cut off as rough hands reached in and pulled them onto the street, pulling them toward the house. The first thing he noticed when they came inside was how bare the hallways were. It seemed his father had removed everything reminiscent of his son, meaning every painting, book and a good portion of the furniture was gone, leaving dust to settle in their places. He felt a brief twinge of sadness at this before a new wave of panic came over him at the sight of the thin, stone-faced man he had once called 'father'.

"Ernst." he seemed to spit the name, circling around the two like a hawk. "I honestly wonder how I raised such a piece of filth. How my own flesh and blood could be so utterly corrupted, so seduced by sin, so-"

"If you intend to stand there and hurl insults, sir, could you at least afford us a chair?" Hanschen muttered, just loud enough for him to hear the contempt in the word 'sir'. Herr Robel turned sharply to him, then to his comrade.

"Take them to the attic. And give him a chair, I'll be up shortly." Ernst whimpered as Hanschen was pulled away from him nad they were led upstairs. "You will remain here, boy." he added to a nearby servant. "You'll keep guard." With that he made a slight motion-just a small brush across the fabric of his coat-but it was enough to reveal to the servant the glint of a long, cruel blade before he walked away.

-pagebreak-pagebreak-

The attic was cold and covered in dust that puffed up whenever they moved, but Ernst had to admit it wasn't the worst place they could've been kept. There was no furniture, but they'd used their jackets as pillows before and-his thoughts were interuppted when he caught sight of Hanschen's arm, which was still bleeding, albeit slowly. Without speaking he began to rip at the hem of his shirt, tearing off a thin strip of cloth and slowly tying it around the wound.

"You didn't need to do that."

"Didn't I?" he replied. "You brought me out of a near-coma, remember?"

"A coma caused by that son of a bitch downstairs-" Ernst cut him off with a kiss.

"I hate him too, but there's really no point in being angry. We're here, and I think it's best if we put that energy towards getting out."

Hanschen groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know, I know...but I'm coming up blank."

Suddenly the door opened and four more people were shoved inside. The first two were unrecognizable, but the second couple was clearly Melchior and Ilse, both of whom were still swearing like sailors over Herr Robel. "Crazy son of a bitch...has no fucking right...wouldn't know parenting if it shit on his face..."

"Melchi? Ilse?" Ernst called out.

"Ernst! Thank goodness, you're alive, we weren't sure what they'd done."

"Ilse, are you...bleeding?" Ernst ran a worried finger over her face, coming in contact with something warm and decidedly wet.

"Just a little. It's nothing." She reassured him, "Your dad was trying to intimidate us."

"And not doing a very good job, may I add." Melchior muttered from a corner. "A rabbit could've done better." Even Hanschen smirked at that. "The question now is how do we get the hell out of here? Because as much as I usually like to play the leader, I have absolutely no ideas. Maxim? Joel? Anything at all?"

The two that had also come in glanced at eachother before the one called Joel spoke. "There is one thing that might just work..."


	9. Chapter 9

**Oh my goodness...It's the last official chapter! (I will add an epilogue, but, yeah...) Thanks SO much to everyone who Read and/or Reviwed this, you were the force that pushed me to finish this! This is the first story over Five chapters that I've actually FINISHED, and that's thanks to you guys. I hope you enjoy the rest of it! :) 3**

The plan is awful, even worse than the one that landed them all here. Maxim and Joel's solution is to sacrifice their lives by disguising themselves as Hanschen and Ernst, as if Herr Robel wouldn't notice... And even if he didn't, nobody was willing to let them be burned at the stake for crimes they didn't commit. Granted, none of what happened should have been counted as a crime, but there wasn't much they could do about that. Yes, it was true that Maxim had the same blonde hair, piercing eyes, and solid build as Hanschen while Joel carried the same dark hair and pale skin as Ernst, but Joel's eyes were green, not brown, and Maxim's face was to soft to be Hanschen. It simply wouldn't work, and while they were touched at how much the two were willing to sacrifice, they didn't want it to. The plan went out the window along with most of their hope.

No one was certain how long they sat inside the attic. Occasionally a man with hair as red as Ilse's would bring them fruit or bread and water, but he left quickly and without speaking. Despair reigned in the dark air of the room, chased away only when Ilse broke the silence to sing quietly. For the most part Ernst and Hanschen simply held each other close and wondered why they haven't been burned at the stake yet. Hanschen, ever the strong one, clings to sound of Ernst's whispered prayers and hopes that they're working, and he also hopes nobody notices when he wakes from dreams of torment panting and covered in a sheen of cold sweat. (Ernst does, but keeps quiet.) Nobody else from the house in the woods arrives and it's decided they never will.

The man with the red hair had a name, Yero. He couldn't remember a time when he didn't work for Herr Robel, though it was often out of sight from the rest of the family, and he couldn't remember a time that he didn't hate it. He had known Ernst's secret almost a year before the Hanschen incident, and had made it a goal of his to protect the boy. Hanschen wasn't the only one in love with him.

Yero wasn't sure when he himself had discovered he was...different, but there were many boys in his heart, and no girls. He supposed that was something to be kept under wraps, and Ernst's beating (which had been an incredible torture for him) had only reinforced that belief. The image of blood striping across Ernst's shoulders wasn't something he could easily forget, but even more memorable was the guilt he had felt at standing by, helpless. When he heard they'd been found, he vowed to help them this time, no matter the cost. The question was simply: How? It became clear after two days that it would take drastic measures and now the true question was: how dirty was he willing to get his hands?

The damned man didn't sleep, at least not soundly. Five times Yero attempted to sneak into the attic at night. Five times he heard the creak of floorboards from Herr Robel's room and quickly ducked into darkness. His strategy then turned to tiring him out during the day, with endless streams of questions, requests for help with some of his tasks, and generally being a nuisance. After a week, he knew it had worked when he found Herr Robel slumped unconcious on his study table, in the kind of sleep that involves eye twitches, snores, and waking up a good ten hours later, if they were lucky. Yero bit back a laugh and retrieved the pistol he had bought so many years ago with a month's wages and crept up the stairs to the attic. Melchior seemed to be the only one awake, but he quickly caught on to Yero's signal and began shaking the others, pressing a finger to his lips to keep them silent. Hanschen led Ernst out first, then Ilse, Maxim, Joel, and Melchior brought up the rear. As always, Yero felt a pang when he saw Ernst's hand in Hanschen's, but he brushed it aside and began to lead the group downstairs.

Herr Robel was waiting for them at the bottom, knife in hand.

"What is this?" he sneered coldly.

"We're leaving." Hanschen, Melchior, and Yero replied in eerie unison. Yero, being at the front, took over. "You have no right to imprison anyone like this, and frankly I'm through working for you. You've never been anything more than an ignorant, cowardly, ba-" he ceased speaking at the touch of an icy blade on his throat.

"You will all return to the attic now, or I will personally make sure your deaths are slow, painful, and public. Do you understand me?"

"Empty threat."

Herr Robel whipped around to Ernst. "What did you just say, boy?"

Ernst stepped forward ignoring Hanschen's grip on his arm. "I said that's an empty threat. You've known Melchior, Ilse, Hanschen, and Yero for years now, Maxim and Joel are innocents and you now it, and I...I'm your goddamn son. You aren't that cruel."

For the briefest of instants, there was a flash of understanding, of sympathy even, in Herr Robel's face as he looked at his son, as if he was questioning his own motives. Then, just as quickly, the hatred returned and Ernst was somehow flat on his back, doe eyes wide with terror as he watched the blade rise-

Yero and Hanschen lunged forward at the same time suddenly unconcerned with their own lives. All that saved Hanschen was that Yero had a fifteen foot advantage on him. There was a collective gasp, then a soft whimper from Ilse as the knife plunged into the space between Yero's shoulderblades. Blood spattered onto Ernst's clothes, and Yero crumpled, lifeless, to the floor. It was Ilse and Joel who snapped out of the shock in half a second, her hands flying the pistol in Yero's pocket while Joel grabbed Herr Robel's wrists, keeping him on the spot.

"Ilse..." Melchior whispered as she lifted the weapon to the man's head, her eyes ablaze.

"He's put us through enough, Mel. It's time we end this." she cocked the gun, then hesitated, fingers shaking.

"Ilse..." Ernst's voice was small, shaky. "Just get it over and done with."

She waited until his face was buried in Hanschen's shoulder before she fired with a small cry.

The smoke cleared, and she carefully pulled Yero's eyelids closed before rushing to Melchior, sobbing. Ernst was beyond any kind of communication, clutching at Hanschen's shirt like a lifeline. Hanschen simply kisses him and whispers that it's all over now, they are safe.


	10. Epilogue

Five years later, they find themselves secure and truly beginning to move on. Melchior and Ilse have been married now for three years, and her stomach grows a little more each day with a child. They don't care if it comes as a boy or a girl, but Melchior secretly hopes it has red hair. They will name it Moritz if it's a boy, Wendla if it's a girl. Ilse can't wait to sing to it-she just _knows _in her heart it will be a musical child. Ernst fears for its inevitable stubbornness.

Maxim left Germany for France to become an actor. Nobody is really sure if he succeeds, but they do hear rumors now and then of a blonde German boy who lives on a stage. Joel returned to help rebuild the house in the woods. They still see their fair share of runaways, but since the fall of the elders in the village, it seems to happen less often. He visits them all as often as he can, and always has a story or two about the children he looks after.

The village as a whole was crippled by the ordeal. Nobody knew what had become of Frau Robel, and arguments over what should have been done were still known to break out among the elders. The children, now the adults, simply sighed and looked away, sometimes brushing their fingers briefly across the lines of the scars they all accumulated from whips and burns. They all did what was expected of them and married people of the opposite sex within their own station. But when they sit around the fireplace at night, holding the small hands of the next generation, they whisper that it needn't be this way for them, that they are free to love whoever makes them happy. And they pray the couple that started it all is safe.

It was discovered after a thorough search of the Robel place that a rough gallows had been in the making when Herr Robel died. A letter dotted with tears in Ernst's script explaining why he had run off was found in the dead man's coat pocket, along with a rosary that many recognized as the ones they made in Sunday school as children, wooden beads on a braid of white string. They burned Herr Robel's body and buried Yero's behind the church.

Hanschen and Ernst finally settled into a community near Berlin, small enough to stay unnoticed by most officials, but large enough that they could blend in and pass as roommates if anybody asked. They got the sense that they weren't the only "roommates" in the area-why, just down the street lived a pair of girls who seemed too close to be friends- but they were too cautious to do anything more in public than occasionally hold hands in the café. They get by on Ernst's paintings and the speeches Hanschen writes. As it turns out, his knack for persuasion pays well. For the first time in awhile, they are safe, happy, content.

But there are days when the memories build up like clutter, and suddenly neither of them can breathe. When that happens Hanschen orders a cab to take them to the edge of the city. He knows if they walk east for about a mile they'll reach a meadow of tall grass, dotted with bluebottle and edelweiss. There's fresh air there, fresh air, sunshine, and solitude. It's as close to Heaven as either of them can imagine and it's not unusual for them to spend the entire day- sunrise to well after sunset- lying on the grass. They dream of the future and reflect on the past, but most of all they concentrate on the present, on blue-or brown- eyes and blonde-or black- hair. Hanschen has a habit of tracing Ernst's scars with gentle kisses, as if trying to erase them. Sometimes Ernst swears he can feel them fading. There's no shortage of "I love you" from either of them.

Frankly, Ernst's faith in God has never been stronger.


End file.
